A childhood memory,
An adult reality.
One uncertain fate held at the petals,
Do you love me or do you not?

Fingers prick petals from the untainted beauty,
The words like enchantments under my breath.
But you are further than dandelions fly,
And more loving than a daisy’s judgment.

Others announce themselves to the breeze,
The daisy trampled at their feet.
A frost bites our hearts; pity them all,
But time is passing us by.

These are the days we cannot get back,
They laugh and sneer through the kisses they smack.
Our anger boils at their uncontained passion,
The fated petals of love, inevitably wasted.

Others enjoy their public love,
While you and I hold private letters.
We wait, not effortless or patient,
An anxious daisy in our hand.

Our love I hold, private and pure,
Across two thousand miles.
Soon, no longer will our daisy cry,
Do you love me or do you not?